


Reverse

by magicalzombiebear



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, F/M, Role Reversal, gender bend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicalzombiebear/pseuds/magicalzombiebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Role reversal AU where Oliver is the babbling IT expert and Felicity is the emotionally unavailable vigilante. For now, it's just rewrites of scenes from the show, but it may beocome original scenes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Origins

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on a different site and didn't get a great response, so I thought I'd try it here.

Felicity Smoak had grown very accustomed to keeping secrets.

Even before the events of the island and Hong Kong, she had been very private with certain matters of her life. For instance, when she and Tommy had gotten themselves too drunk to get home, she told her girlfriend Laurel that they were called away by Moira to discuss her and Tommy's potential with the company now that they were out of college.

When she got pregnant, and Moira paid off the father to raise the child, she told everyone that nine months in Tahiti was the reason her skin had been glowing. In reality, she had been with a few midwives in one of their summer homes.

And then when she got back after the Smoak Signal capsized and Sara had been pulled under and her father had killed both himself and the captain, she made sure to tell everyone that they all drowned.

Because the truth was a bit more painful, she hated to admit.

So why, when she could tell all of these lies to people she cared about, could she not remember the lie she prepared for one IT expert Oliver Queen?

She had stepped off the elevator, going over the lie in her head. She had gotten caught in the cross hairs of a battle between Deadshot and the Vigilante, and though the Vigilante had protected her securely, the offender's laptop had gotten ruined by a few well-placed SCPD bullets. She stole it out of curiosity, that's all. Not an airtight story, but not too unbelievable.

And then she had clicked her heels across the floor to his supposed cubicle and saw what lay in wait.

How could someone so attractive be tucked away in the IT department?

Before the island, she would have leaned over his desk, flashing her cleavage. She'd have fingered her ponytail and looked at him through her eyelashes, and taken him to the empty stairwell a few feet away.

But she wasn't that person anymore.

He turned away, not having seen her, working diligently at whatever he was doing. Now or never.

"Oliver Queen?"

She drew out his first name as she said it. He turned, red pen hanging out of his mouth, and stared up at her.

"I'm Felicity Smoak." She half hoped he didn't know who she was, just to find someone who didn't. No such luck.

"Of course," he said, after yanking the pen out of his mouth. His hands went up as he said "I know who you are, you're Ms. Smoak." He was smiling and she wished she could say it wasn't adorably endearing.

"No," she said immediately. "Ms. Smoak is my mother. And even then, only my father really took to using a title."

Oliver nodded. "Right, but he's dead." His eyes widened. "I mean he drowned. But you didn't. Which means you could come down to the IT department. And listen to me babble. Which will end..in 3...2...1..."

Felicity's eyes shone in amusement. She might rethink her stairwell idea if she wasn't here for something important.

"I'm having some trouble with my computer, and they told me you were the person to come and see." She revealed the laptop that was in her hands and placed it in front of Oliver. He placed his hand on it as she stood there. She stared at his jawline and the stubble that rested there, considering how it would feel on her neck. Oh no, she thought, I forgot my lie.

Whatever spilled out of her mouth was so bogus, she wished for one second to be back on the island where computers were not too much of an issue, and there were no hot IT guys giving her strange looks.

"I was at my coffee shop surfing the web, and I spilt a latte on it." Though her face showed no signs of having said anything ridiculously outrageous, her mind screamed 'Latte? Really?'

"Really?" he said, unconvinced. "Because," he pointed to the round indents. "These look like bullet holes."

She barely flinched upon saying, "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."

He tightened his mouth into a thin line and cocked his head to the right. The look was very obviously a 'how-stupid-do-I-look' sort of face, but she just smiled and said, "If there's anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."

Oliver still held an incredulous look on his face, before giving a nod.

Felicity sighed as she walked back toward the elevator. She had survived five years of hell only to be undone by a blonde chewing a red pen.  
___________________________________________________________________________  
Oliver had grown very accustomed to being needed.

Even when he was a kid, his mother had called to him, drunk and ruthless, requesting food or some water. Then, when he had gotten older, he was the guy.

The guy that everyone asked for favors with their equipment (even his train of thought had foot-in-mouth syndrome), or to help move their stuff. He had the brawn, the brains, and crumbled far too easily at the offer of Big Belly Burger.

After he got the job at Smoak Industries, everyone quickly realized he was kind of brilliant. So naturally they all begged for his assistance on their projects. Oliver was kind enough to help, but only when he had finished his own. He wasn't stupid-he knew half of them were trying to get him behind. So he just worked twice as hard. I mean, installing new software wasn't really much compared to his previous accomplishments. Those government databases really needed a modern eye, and he would be more than happy to help if they ever came knocking.

Though the thought of the government knocking at his door was actually not a very good one, and he kind of wished he hadn't thought about it. Now he was thinking about Cooper, and he swallowed thickly. Whoops.

So why then, after years of being needed by many people that he may or may not have cared about, was he so shell-shocked when Felicity Smoak had asked for his assistance?

He had been sitting there, at his desk, focused on the latest version of Spyware and Gregory Brockman's practically impossible task of updating the already perfect sound quality on the company's top of the line computers ("They said they can't hear anything. Are rich people deaf and blind?"), when he heard heels click in the distance. He barely noticed the sound, though it was foreign down here in the land of loafers and flats.

He turned over towards a binder, tossing his pen into his mouth, scanning down a list of numbers, when a decidedly feminine voice asked,

"Oliver Queen?"

He looked up, hands spread in alarm, and practically fainted. The Felicity Smoak was standing at his less-than-classy cubicle. And his first thought was, plainly, why?

"I'm Felicity Smoak."

No. Freaking. Shit.

He self-consciously tore the pen from his mouth, quickly blurting out, "Of course,"

Really, Oliver? 'Of course?' He hated his whole life right now.

So he 'fixed it' with a spectacular response of "I know who you are, you're Ms. Smoak."

She easily replied "No, Ms. Smoak is my mother. And even then, only my father really took to using a title."

Oliver decided at that moment to realize just how beautiful she was. Her designer skirt hugged her curves and stopped just before her knees. The blouse that accompanied it was a see-through white and she had made the (possibly conscious) decision to wear a black bra underneath.

So because of his horribly-timed realization (though he thinks it probably would have happened anyway) he says, "Right, but he's dead." Her eyebrows raised and he furthered the madness. "I mean he drowned. But you didn't." Good god, there was no end. "Which means you could come down to the IT department. And listen to me babble. Which will end. In 3...2...1..."

Does speaking in mildly inappropriate sentence fragments count as a special skill?

Felicity looked thoroughly amused, so he didn't feel completely awful.

"I'm having some trouble with my computer, and they told me you were the person to come and see."

Thank god, something Oliver couldn't screw up. She placed the computer in front of him and he blanched, caressing the laptop. Someone murdered this thing, and he would avenge it. He looked up and saw Ms. Smoak looking along his jaw, and before he could even think she said, "I was at my coffee shop, surfing the web, and I spilt a latte on it."

Oliver couldn't contain the "Really?" That flew out of his mouth. He caressed the holes in the computer. "Because these look like bullet holes."

Was she really that dense? Maybe five years away from civilization had done her in.

But she didn't seem to realize the strange nature of what she said, because she smiled and said, "My coffee shop is in a bad neighborhood."

Oliver knew his face had twisted into a very obviously disapproving look. Felicity sighed and leaned forward only slightly.

"If there's anything you can salvage from it, I would really appreciate it."

He looked into her eyes and noted the genuine look of thanks there. So he wordlessly nodded.

Oliver sighed as he returned to work. He had spent years of saying no to ridiculous projects, only to be undone by a blonde billionaire with a bullet-ridden laptop.


	2. Understood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's POV. Felicity wants him to be safe, but Oliver just wants to be with Felicity, unsafe. Role reversal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to do one person, but if you want Felicity's POV I'd be happy to add it as the next chapter. I'm rewriting the original version of this thing, so expect at least four more chapters. Tell me if you want more and wat scene you want to see reversed. I like being challenged, so if you give me one reeeeallly gender-specific I will figure out a way around it. Well, I'll try.... Anyway, enjoy!

Oliver didn't know what was worse-the city being overrun or feeling Felicity's hand graze his and not being able to reach out and grab it.  
She had led him to the mansion, and with everything going on, he couldn't help but be frustrated that, once again, Felicity was choosing to keep something from him. Especially when it was during the worst invasion the city had ever seen. Assuming, you know, there were other invasions...like in the war time...  
Oliver stepped hesitantly into the mansion, black trench coat tied firmly around his waist. His hands were shoved in his pockets, but the right one did shoot out occasionally to push up his glasses.  
"Felicity, what are we doing here? The whole city's falling apart."  
She laid a hand on his arm and steered them further into the entryway, next to the stairs.   
"I know" was her great response. Oliver was impatient, waiting for the explanation.  
"You need to stay here."  
Oliver blurted a "What!?" In protest. Stay there and do what? If he was not a secretary, he was certainly not a maid or a damsel in distress that waited for his knight to slay the dragon while he played Candy Crush on his phone. Assuming it wasn't dead...  
"Why? You can't just ask me to-"  
"I'm not asking." Normally, Oliver was grateful when Felicity shut him up. This was not one of those times. And when did Felicity ever ask anyhow? She wasn't exactly the friendliest vigilante. And yes, that is totally in comparison to Barry. A nice, question-asking, saves-cats-from-trees vigilante.  
"I will come and get you when this is all over." Oliver followed as she walked away from him.  
"No!" He wanted to say 'you mean when Laurel is dead and the city is destroyed'. He wanted to say 'you mean because I'm not good enough'. He refrained, knowing either statement would cause the blonde to get angry.  
"Oliver..."  
"No, not unless you tell me why." He thought they were partners, that he was her girl Friday (he was trying to find a more applicable reference), that they understood each other. Or maybe Felicity was a better liar than he thought.  
"Because I need you to be safe." And there it was. She was implying he couldn't hold his own, that he'd get in the way. He swallowed the hurt and chose to keep fighting.  
"Well I don't want to be safe, I want to be with you..." His pause did not go unnoticed. "And the others, unsafe.."  
"I can't let that happen." He noticed the steel in her eyes. This part was definitely true, and Oliver's chest warmed at the thought. "Felicity..." Their eyes met, and Oliver couldn't help but pick out the romantic song that would be playing if it were a rom-com. But then he ruined his own party.  
"You're not making any sense."  
The song had been 'Crazy' by Patsy Cline because it so totally summed up Oliver's observations about Felicity's conquests.  
"Slade took Laurel because he wanted to kill the person I love."  
Oliver had been paying attention, despite Felicity's sudden need to point out his flaws.  
"I know. So?"  
"So he took the wrong person."  
Oliver's mouth went tight. "Oh."  
The Hairspray song about wedding bells played on a loop. Simba was crowned king. Nutella was invented. Everything perfect came together in that one moment and Oliver wanted to rejoice from the rooftops, maybe even shoot some arrows.  
"I love you."  
As if the world could get more perfect than after hearing those words.   
It could definitely get less perfect.  
He felt the cylindrical item press into his palm, and the world turned dull. He tried so hard not to let his face fall, because there had to be cameras.   
"Do you understand?"  
He understood a lot of things. He graduated from MIT and was a hacker that built a computer at seven. There was little he didn't understand. He longed for this to be something he didn't, to ask stupidly, 'but the love part still stands, right?'.  
"Yes." was all he said as Felicity walked out and Oliver waited.  
He would be dragged out, but he was kicking and screaming. That was little comfort, but it was better than none at all.


	3. Any Other Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is not trained in the secretarial arts, but Felicity doesn't seem to think it matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a dual POV, Oliver first and then Felicity. Tell me what you think, or what you want to see. I'll also take prompts and do them as role reversal one shots and post them here, so if that interests you let me know. .

"I quit."

"No, you don't."

No, he didn't. Honestly, if he were truly quitting, it would have to be because the world was ending. But Felicity Smoak was being infuriating, because she was trying to give him a job...

As a glorified secretary.

"Yes, I do." It was not something he knew how to do. Sure, he could finagle his way into some of the most top secret agencies. Absolutely he could get past the most troubling FIREWALLS. But planning meetings and getting coffee? No. Way. Jose.

"And not my old job in the I.T. department, but my new job as your executive assistant. Which you think I'm going to take. Your thinking could not be more wrong on this matter!"

He could feel his glasses scooting down his nose. His hooves were in the air from accentuating his words.

Felicity's grey suit hugged her curves, and Oliver took a split second to look down and appreciate it as she sighed.

"I need my filly Wednesday."

Did she just call him a filly? And deliver a reference INCORRECTLY? It was like a hit to their nonexistent relationship as well as a blow to her time on the island. Only Felicity could find a way to insult them both in five words or less.

"It's Friday, and the answer is no."

Just then, a phone rang. Felicity looked at the offending technology, giving Oliver a second to adjust his glasses. So what if he missed a phone call? He was defending his rights...kind of. Felicity was too good at getting to him.

Felicity was clearly angry as she turned back to him.

"These COMPUTERS have been upgraded." Felicity pointed towards what would be Oliver's desk.

Oh, have they? What, did Felicity think talking the COMPUTERS up would make him suddenly more willing to use them?

"Far more processing power than your typical secretary." Ok, they probably were good COMPUTERS. But he could do just as much, if not more at the foundry. Heck, maybe even at home. At Smoak Industries, there were cameras and possible onlookers. Yes, the office was tucked away in a corner. That didn't mean accidents couldn't happen. There was a risk with discussing their...activities...here.

Felicity walked away into her office after that, and Oliver breathed in deeply.

"Did you know I went to MIT?" He began furiously rushing toward Felicity, finger pointed accusingly in Felicity's direction, CONTINUING. "Guess what I majored in. Hint: not the secretarial arts!"

"Oliver!" Oh, now she was mad. Well, why? Oliver was the one being forced into a position usually filled by brainless ponies with average COMPUTER skills. Perhaps even below average.

He was not brainless. His COMPUTER skills were above average. Waaaaaay above.

"We all need to have secret identities now." Oliver really only just became aware of how close they were, Felicity's breath on his face. Their eyes were focused on each other's, dark with frustration.

"If I'm going to be Felicity Smoak, CEO, then I very well can't travel down eighteen floors every time you and I need to discuss how we spend our nights."

He didn't want her to do that, of course. He didn't want to give that up. He just didn't want to be a secretary.

"And I love spending the night with you."

His mouth betrayed him. He looked at it for a millisecond.

How dare you, mouth.

"3..2..1.."

Felicity began walking away from him.

"I worked very hard to get where I am."

Oliver followed on her heels.

"And it wasn't so I could fetch you coffee."

No way in hell he was getting her coffee. It was essentially the lowest form of service-being a waiter.

Diggle's voice brought Oliver back to reality. If he was being totally honest, he had forgotten about him.

"Well, it could be worse. My secret identity is her black driver."

Oliver would have laughed under any other circumstances.

_____________________________________

"I quit."

"No you don't."

No, he didn't. There was no way Oliver would give this up.

There was no way Felicity would let Oliver give this up. Ok, the job wasn't exactly a great fit for him. Oliver was far too intelligent to run errands, and Felicity knew that all too well. But she had to PROTECT him. It was her job.

"Yes, I do." Ok, he was mad. She understood why. Hell, she was ready to AGREE and send him back down to the I.T. department. But he was needed elsewhere, despite his pride.

"And not my old job in the I.T. department, but my new job as your executive assistant. Which you think I'm going to take. Your thinking could not be more wrong on this matter!"

She gave Oliver a look. She was ALREADY on the same page without Oliver spelling it out for her. She noticed his glasses had ridden slightly down his nose. She felt the brush of his fingers as he punctuated his words with rapid hoof movements.

His gaze dropped down for a second as she sighed. What was that old movie…?

"I need my filly Wednesday."

Ok, judging by Oliver's face she had either gotten the reference INCORRECT, or insulted him.

She was betting on both.

"It's Friday-"

Oh, that's right…

"-and the answer is no."

She would have won that bet.

Why couldn't he see this was for his own good? She just wanted to keep him close, not just to PROTECT him but to make it easier to talk to him. Maybe if she promised a salmon ladder in her office he'd repent.

A phone rang, and Felicity's head whipped towards the noise. See!? If Oliver would just take the job, that phone would have been answered. What if it was important!?

Jesus, Oliver was getting under her skin. That made her angry.

"These COMPUTERS have been upgraded."

Good work, Felicity. If she talked the technology up, he'd probably cave. Assuming these COMPUTERS were actually anywhere near up to snuff.

"Far more PROCESSING power than your typical secretary."

Oliver didn't seem very impressed. So she just huffed and walked away.

He followed, of course.

"Did you know I went to MIT?"

Ok, yes, his intelligence was much too great for this job. Felicity was painfully aware of just how much Oliver was too good for this, too good for her.

"Guess what I majored in. Hint: not the secretarial arts!"

Too good? Yes.

Crazy annoying? Good celestia, yes.

"Oliver!" she screamed. She was too fed up with his insistent need to defy her judgment on this matter.

"We all need to have secret identities now." Felicity chose that moment to notice how close they were, breaths mingling. She could see her outline in the reflection of his glasses, and quickly composed herself before going on.

"If I'm going to be Felicity Smoak, CEO, I very well can't travel down eighteen floors every time you and I need to discuss how we spend our nights."

As soon as the words were out, she WAITED patiently for Oliver's response. She knew her wording would confuse him, he'd say something stupid, and then she'd walk away as if it annoyed her, even when it was one of the cuter aspects of Oliver Queen.

Sure enough, he quickly shot back, "And I love spending the night with you."

There it was. She shot a glance at Diggle before walking further towards his desk, as Oliver took a breath. "3..2..1.."

His steps were following hers in seconds, as he found a better response. "I have worked very hard to get where I am, and it wasn't so I could fetch you coffee."

For the first time since Felicity had thought about Oliver as her secretary, she allowed THE IMAGE of him bringing her coffee into her head. It felt wrong, but at the same time there was a sort of fantasy aspect to the image. She filed the image away for later as Diggle spoke up for the first time. Felicity had almost forgotten about him.

"It could be worse. My secret identity is her black driver."

Felicity would have smiled under any other circumstances.


End file.
